


July 23, 1934

by zaticon1



Category: Superman (Comics)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-21
Updated: 2018-10-21
Packaged: 2019-08-05 05:29:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16361741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zaticon1/pseuds/zaticon1





	July 23, 1934

It’s just after midnight, of July 23, 1934. Summer’s been brutal, not just here in Ohio, but all across the country. The season will, in fact, be recorded as the hottest of the 20th Century. I always keep the house comfortable for Ma and Pa, though. It’s no effort and i my great pleasure. Pa’s been at the store, since six this morning. I have no idea how an earthman of his age can work so hard or for so long, but he does, day after day. I never offer any more help than he asks, though. I’ve learned. He’ll be home in a few minutes. I just heard our Cunninghams’ engine start up. Pa bought that car, a beautiful maroon phaeton, second hand, in 1926. Even when times were good, he never wasted a penny, God bless him. I remember the first time he came tooling up the driveway with that big old Kent grin on his face, blowing the horn and gunning the motor to beat the band. I got all het up and tore off the drivers’ side door, when I dashed over to greet him! 

He just shook his head and mussed my hair. By then, he and Ma were long used to mishaps of that sort. I fixed the door right away, but I was just a sprat, in those days and it ended up a little cockeyed. He’s never let me take another crack at it, even though he knows I could now do a perfect job. He’s an insightful man. In the year 2109, the car will sell at auction for more than seven billion dollars. I know. I was present when the hammer came down. I signed the certificate of authenticity.

Exactly one hour ago, in Chicago, federal agents shot and killed John Dillinger. I hovered in the sky above the house and watched it happen. I could have stepped in. I could have taken Dillinger alive, tonight. I could, in truth, have kept him from ever committing a single crime. There was a time when I would have done so. Experience, though, even the few years of it that I’ve had, has tempered my promiscuity. 

I discovered time travel quite by accident and became fascinated with it. I’ve let people believe that I haven’t the ability to change history. This is untrue. I have, in fact, done so, many times, in many ways, some of which even I am probably unaware. I have reason to believe, for instance, that I’m personally responsible for the legend of Achilles. 

Tampering isn’t difficult, but it is risky and unpredictable. Once, I attempted to stop the assassination of President Lincoln. Obviously, I failed. But, in the process, I profoundly affected the life of my former friend Lex Luthor. I’ve never revealed that, when I travel in time, I observe the passage of the years that I traverse at a nearly normal rate. In effect, I live those years. Very often, I see changes in their course. Trust me that the decades proceeding 1960 are safer and brighter than I have seen them. I will not elaborate.

 

Power, of any kind is an invitation to abuse and self-indulgence. Power like mine is an invitation to catastrophe. This thought is constant presence and I’m grateful for the caution that it inspires.

Nonetheless, I cannot say that I’ve always acted dispassionately or unselfishly. Leaning my true heritage and coming to believe, albeit falsely, that I was the last surviving member of my species affected me with a profundity that I will not attempt to describe. The love of Ma and Pa Kent, the friendships of Lana, Pete and a few others, along with my burgeoning sense of duty were invaluable in helping me through those hard days, but they were not enough. 

Looking back, I could have ventured into space and found others like myself. I know, now, that worlds like Krypton exist. But I love Ma and Pa and Earth is Home. I will never abandon them. 

So, I took a very hubristic course of action. I wandered through the coming thousand years and I began to…..tamper. I never directly harmed anyone, of course, but I sent thousands of lives down paths that they would never have chosen. I manipulated entire cultures. Finally, satisfied with what I’d sown, I turned my back and waited for history, my self styled version of it, at least, to take its’ course. 

The reaping came with the arrival in Smallville of three teenaged strangers. I had “made some friends.”

When they approached me, I played my country cousin role like Boob McNutt, himself, something of an accomplishment, since one of my visitors was a powerful telepath. It’s all documented elsewhere. Ironically, my new acolytes told me that the historical record of my….”exploits” had “inspired” them to become heroes. Exploits. My God, if they could only know the irony.

I can say with certainty that the 30th Century that I’ve come to know is a far healthier age than the one that I first encountered. I do not know or contend that this justifies what I’ve done. I only know that I now have peers. It’s a wonderful feeling.

 

Here's a short drabble that I came up with, a while back. It’s just after midnight, of July 23, 1934. Summer’s been brutal, not just here in Ohio, but all across the country. The season will, in fact, be recorded as the hottest of the 20th Century. I always keep the house comfortable for Ma and Pa, though. It’s no effort and it's my great pleasure. Pa’s been at the store, since six this morning. I have no idea how an earthman of his age can work so hard or for so long, but he does, day after day. I never offer any more help than he asks, though. I’ve learned. He’ll be home in a few minutes. I just heard our Cunninghams’ engine start up. Pa bought that car, a beautiful maroon phaeton, second hand, in 1926. Even when times were good, he never wasted a penny, God bless him. I remember the first time he came tooling up the driveway with that big old Kent grin on his face, blowing the horn and gunning the motor to beat the band. I got all het up and tore off the drivers’ side door, when I dashed over to greet him! 

 

He just shook his head and mussed my hair. By then, he and Ma were long used to mishaps of that sort. I fixed the door right away, but I was just a sprat, in those days and it ended up a little cockeyed. He’s never let me take another crack at it, even though he knows I could now do a perfect job. He’s an insightful man. In the year 2109, the car will sell at auction for more than seven billion dollars. I know. I was present when the hammer came down. I signed the certificate of authenticity.

 

Exactly one hour ago, in Chicago, federal agents shot and killed John Dillinger. I hovered in the sky above the house and watched it happen. I could have stepped in. I could have taken Dillinger alive, tonight. I could, in truth, have kept him from ever committing a single crime. There was a time when I would have done so. Experience, though, even the few years of it that I’ve had, has tempered my promiscuity. 

 

Thanks for the add. Here's a short drabble that came to me, a while back. It’s just after midnight, of July 23, 1934. Summer’s been brutal, not just here in Ohio, but all across the country. The season will, in fact, be recorded as the hottest of the 20th Century. I always keep the house comfortable for Ma and Pa, though. It’s no effort and is my great pleasure. Pa’s been at the store, since six this morning. I have no idea how an earthman of his age can work so hard or for so long, but he does, day after day. I never offer any more help than he asks, though. I’ve learned. He’ll be home in a few minutes. I just heard our Cunninghams’ engine fire up. Pa bought that car, a beautiful maroon phaeton, second hand, in 1923. Even when times were good, he never wasted a penny, God bless him. I remember the first time he came tooling up the driveway with that big old Kent grin on his face, blowing the horn and gunning the motor to beat the band. I got all het up and tore off the drivers’ side door, when I dashed over to greet him! 

 

He just shook his head and mussed my hair. By then, he and Ma were long used to mishaps of that sort. I fixed the door right away, but I was just a sprat, in those days and it ended up a little cockeyed. He’s never let me take another crack at it, even though he knows I could now do a perfect job. He’s an insightful man. In the year 2109, the car will sell at auction for more than seven billion dollars. I know. I was present when the hammer came down. I signed the certificate of authenticity.

 

Exactly one hour ago, in Chicago, federal agents shot and killed John Dillinger. I hovered above the house and watched it happen. I could have stepped in. I could have taken Dillinger alive, tonight. I could, in truth, have kept him from ever committing a single crime. There was a time when I would have done so. Experience, though, even the few years of it that I’ve had, has tempered my promiscuity. 

 

I discovered time travel quite by accident and became fascinated with it. I’ve let people believe that I haven’t the ability to change history. This is untrue. I have, in fact, done so, many times, in many ways, some of which even I am probably unaware. I have reason to believe, for instance, that I’m personally responsible for the legend of Achilles. 

 

Tampering isn’t difficult, but it is risky and unpredictable. Once, I attempted to stop the assassination of President Lincoln. Obviously, I failed. But, in the process, I profoundly affected the life of my former friend, Lex Luthor. I’ve never revealed that, when I travel in time, I observe the passage of the years that I traverse at a nearly normal rate. In effect, I live those years. Very often, I see changes in their course. Trust me that the decades proceeding 1960 are safer and brighter than I have previously seen them. I will not elaborate.

 

Power, of any kind is an invitation to abuse and self-indulgence. Power like mine is an invitation to catastrophe. This thought is constant presence and I’m grateful for the caution that it inspires.

 

Nonetheless, I cannot say that I’ve always acted dispassionately or unselfishly. Leaning my true heritage and coming to believe, albeit falsely, that I was the last surviving member of my species affected me with a profundity that I will not attempt to describe. The love of Ma and Pa Kent, the friendships of Lana, Pete and a few others, and with my burgeoning sense of duty were invaluable in helping me through those hard days, but they were not enough. 

 

Looking back, I could have ventured into space and found others like myself. I know, now, that worlds like Krypton exist. But I love Ma and Pa and Earth is Home. I will never abandon them. 

 

So, I took a hubristic course. I wandered through the coming thousand years and I…..tampered. I never directly harmed anyone, of course, but I sent thousands of lives down paths that they would never have chosen. I manipulated entire cultures. Finally, at long last satisfied with what I’d sown, I turned my back and waited for history, my self styled version of it, at least, to take its’ course. 

 

The reaping came with the arrival in Smallville of three teenaged strangers. I had “made some friends.”

 

When they approached me, I played my country cousin role like Boob McNutt, himself, something of an accomplishment, since one of my visitors was a powerful telepath. It’s all documented elsewhere. Ironically, my new acolytes told me that the historical record of my….”exploits” had “inspired” them to become heroes. Exploits. My God, if they could only know the irony.

 

I can say with certainty that the 30th Century that I’ve come to know is a far healthier age than the one that I first encountered. I do not know or contend that this justifies what I’ve done. I only know that I now have peers. It’s a wonderful feeling.

 

I discovered time travel quite by accident and became fascinated with it. I’ve let people believe that I haven’t the ability to change history. This is untrue. I have, I now realize, done so, many times, in many ways, some of which even I am probably unaware. I have reason to believe, for instance, that I’m personally responsible for the legend of Achilles. 

 

Tampering isn’t difficult, but it is risky and unpredictable. Once, I attempted to stop the assassination of President Lincoln. Obviously, I failed. But, in the process, I profoundly affected the life of my former friend Lex Luthor. I’ve never mentioned that, when I travel in time, I observe the passage of the years at with perfect clarity. In effect, I live those years. Very often, I see changes in their course. Trust me that the decades proceeding 1960 are safer and brighter than I have seen them. I will not elaborate.

 

Power, of any kind is, an invitation to abuse and self-indulgence. Power like mine is an invitation to catastrophe. This thought is constant presence and I’m grateful for the caution that it inspires.

 

Nonetheless, I cannot say that I’ve always acted dispassionately or unselfishly. Leaning my true heritage and coming to believe, albeit falsely, that I was the only surviving member of my species affected me with a profundity that I will not attempt to describe. The love of Ma and Pa Kent, the friendships of Lana, Pete and a few others, along with my burgeoning sense of duty were invaluable in helping me through those hard days, but they were not enough. 

 

Looking back, I could have ventured into space and found others like myself. I know, now, that worlds similar to Krypton exist. But I've grown to love Earth and could never abandon it. 

 

Instead, I took a hubristic course. I wandered through the coming thousand years and I began to…..tamper. I never directly harmed anyone, of course, but I sent thousands of lives down paths that they would never have chosen. I manipulated entire cultures. Finally, satisfied with what I’d sown, I turned my back and waited for history, my self styled version of it, at least, to take its’ course. 

 

The reaping came with the arrival in Smallville of three teenaged strangers. I had “made some friends.”

 

When they approached me, I played my country cousin role like Boob McNutt, himself, something of an accomplishment, as one of the visitors was a powerful telepath. It’s all documented elsewhere. Ironically, my new acolytes told me that the historical record of my….”exploits” had “inspired” them to become heroes. Exploits. My God, if they could only know the irony.

 

I can say with certainty that the 30th Century that I’ve come to know is a far healthier age than the one that I first encountered. I do not know or contend that this justifies what I’ve done. I only know that I now have peers. It’s a wonderful feeling.


End file.
